Comfort in Their Arms
by DiaTheMagicDragon
Summary: In the face of heartbreak, we run to the people we think can heal us. When confronted with immense heartbreak, however, we may be forced into the arms of the one person we never thought could give us comfort. Draco/Hermione
1. Chapter 1: Hermione comforts Draco

**RATED T**

 **A/N: So, this story is going to consist of two different chapters, each in which Draco or Hermione comforts the other. The first is when Hermione comforts Draco, written in Hermione's first person point-of-view. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. Or any of the characters. Or Hogwarts, Hedwig, or Fred and George Weasley. I need to work on that.**

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I am walking down the corridor when I hear the quiet sobs. I balk in my path but then take the few steps necessary to reach the end of the hall. I carefully peek around the corner. My curiosity reveals Draco Malfoy on the floor. His head is in between his knees which are curled into his stomach. His hair is falling in his face, and I can see him shaking with visible sobs. Interestingly, he is making very little noise. Only every once in a while can I hear him sniff.

I whip my head back around to where I am standing and prepare to dart across the open corridor. I need to get to the other side, but I can't let him see me. He can't know that I saw him. He can't know I was here.

I take a deep breath and take one step. As casually as possible, I saunter across the open area, keeping my gaze from Malfoy. Halfway across, I hear a voice.

"Who's there?" he calls. I freeze. My logical side knows I shouldn't, but I do. I go to take another step. "I know someone's there."

I stop halfway through the movement and turn to face him, my face illuminated by the low light provided via the candles.

At the sight of me, Malfoy snarls, "Oh, joy, the mudblood. What are you doing –"

Realizing the stupidity of his question, he halts. Being Head Girl, I have to patrol nearly every night. He, on the other hand, being Head Boy, is also supposed to patrol, but tonight, he was nowhere to be found as I left our dormitory. I had searched for him, but when I came to the conclusion that, well, I didn't really care, I let it go. Now I know where he is, at least.

"I'll – uh – I'll just be going now," I stutter. We may have become a bit more civil with each other during these past couple months (after all, we have been stuck in the same dormitories this school year), but that does not mean I wish to stick around while he cries.

Oh Merlin, while he cries. Never before have I witnessed anything as shocking as this.

"Are you deaf?" His voice shocks me. I had been so enthralled with my own thoughts that I had missed what he said.

"No, Malfoy," I reply, attempting to cover up my own hesitancy. "I just don't care."

I feel guilty even saying this.

What am I thinking? Feeling remorse at insulting Draco Malfoy. I have officially gone insane.

"Well then, Granger, you better get going. I can't stand the sight of you any longer," he snarls. His voice is acid, dripping from his mouth. It sounds so harsh, so malicious, but I know that he has to put more effort into it now than usual.

I go to finish my race to the other side of the hallway, but as I am leaving, I hear a small sob escape him. Going rigid again, I fight myself on turning around or not. Finally, I discern that to me, it doesn't matter _who_ it is in pain. All it matters is that they _are_ in pain. After all, that was our philosophy through the Dark War. It's the reason Harry, Ron, and I were able to save so many people: compassion.

I sigh and spin around on my feet. I approach him cautiously and sit down on the ground next to him. The cool wall presses against my back, and the cool scent of Malfoy pushes into my nose.

Malfoy raises his head and glares at me. "I thought I told you to get out of here, Granger. Actually, I'm 100% sure I said that."

"You did. But I came back." _I shouldn't have, but I did. Merlin, Hermione, you're such an idiot._

"Well I'd rather you leave again," Malfoy concludes. His voice is cold and rough, slicing through the cool air of the Hogwarts castle.

"And I'd rather not go until I know why you're crying in the dark."

"What the hell are you on about, Granger?" he asks. "I'm not bloody crying."

"I'm not stupid, Malfoy," I assure him, ignoring the way he raises his eyebrows at my statement. I recoil at the question of my intelligence. "I'm _not_."

"Either way," Malfoy scoffs, "it's really none of your damn business, now is it, mudblood?"

"I suppose not," I agree. I really want to leave. Sweet Merlin, what was I thinking? Nonetheless, I don't move. Not one inch. He does, though. He shifts his body to lean away from me, openly disgusted with my presence.

"Then what the hell are you still doing here?"

"I may not like you, Malfoy, but I'm not leaving you alone right now."

Malfoy peers at me like he is more interested in my being here now than he was before. He is probably just surprised I have stuck around and not shrunk away from his fierce glare. Is he forgetting the time in third year when I slapped him? It may have been about five years ago, but that doesn't mean I'm afraid to do it again. He didn't fight back the first time; he likely won't now.

"You find me intolerable," Malfoy says. "Remember?"

"You're not mistaken," I say, cocking my head to the side, showing my agreement, "but when someone is in a state such as this, I find it best to put hard feelings aside and help them."

"Hard feelings?" Malfoy inquires, smirking. His speech suddenly becomes much more precise and proper. "Whatever do you mean?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "I don't find this amusing," I tell him. "I'll stay longer."

"Ha," Malfoy barks. "Please don't."

"I wouldn't like that either."

"Bloody hell, I can't believe I'm even sitting here having a civil conversation with you."

"Well, I wouldn't go as far as to call this civil," I tell him. "You're insulting me with every sentence that comes out of your mouth. But are you going to tell me why you're here?"

"Will it make you go away?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether or not I think it'll make you do something stupid."

"I'm not an idiot, Granger. I'm not going to hurt myself."

"Possibly not, but you would have no problem with hurting someone else, now, would you?"

Malfoy glares at me and says, "I wouldn't have a problem hurting you right now, Granger."

I only stare at him, my features blank.

"Fine. I'll tell you," he concedes, "but you have to promise that, no matter what, you'll leave."

"Absolutely not."

"I could just hex you."

"Quite honestly, I'm surprised you haven't already. I'm beginning to wonder why."

Malfoy doesn't answer.

"You don't have your wand, do you?"

"Of course I do. I never leave without it."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Where is it?"

Malfoy groans. "Ok. But promise or I won't tell you."

"I hope you are aware that I don't want to know just so that I know. I want to know so I can help you."

"You? The mudblood? Help _me,_ Draco Malfoy?" He puts a hand to his heart, feigning shock. "I'm absolutely flattered."

"If you don't want help, then . . ."

"Then what?"

"I'll just go."

"Please do."

 _Damn._ "No."

"Merlin, I just can't get rid of you."

"Malfoy, I want to help."

"Oh Merlin, alright, alright."

"You see, I've already helped. You're no longer crying."

"Because I'm preoccupied yelling at you!"

"No matter. Now spill, Malfoy."

Malfoy looks down. "It's my mother."

He stops. I nudge his arm and he shrinks away from my touch. He shuffles over some so he is farther from me.

"What about her?" I prompt him.

"She's dead."

My breath catches in my throat. Not what I was expecting. "When?"

"This morning. I got an owl about an hour ago telling me. I had no idea she was sick. They didn't even send me home. I didn't even get to say goodbye."

"I'm so sorry."

"No you're not."

"I am, Malfoy. I may not be your biggest fan, but I know how it feels to lose someone."

By now, Malfoy is crying again. I tell him, "You should get back to your room."

"I'd rather sneak into the kitchen and find the whiskey. Then I'll get drunk and make this go away."

"Sleep is better." I stand up, and when Malfoy doesn't make a move to do the same, I offer him my hand. He looks up at me curiously and pushes himself off the ground, ignoring my outstretched limb. He brushes his robes off and swipes a hand across his face.

"Whatever," he says. He begins to walk ahead of me, and I don't make a move to catch up to him. He reaches the Head Boy and Girl room first, gives the password, and enters, letting the door slam shut on me.

"Prat," I mutter, and then give the password also. I enter the room and Malfoy is nowhere to be found. However, I hear sniffling and the slam of a door. I walk up the stairs that lead to his room and knock on the door. Malfoy calls out to me, his voice muffled through the wood. "Go away, Granger."

I try to open the door. It's locked. Being the intellectual witch Malfoy doesn't believe me to be, I use charms to open it. I walk in to find Malfoy face down on his bed. He is fully clothed yet, meaning flopping down onto the mattress must have been the first thing he did when he got into the room. His face is stuffed in his pillow, the casing on it scrunched around his face.

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, you're going to suffocate yourself."

"That's kind of the point."

I walk over to the bed and shove him over.

"Don't touch me," he spits at me.

"Let it go, Malfoy, I'm not dirty I've just got normal parents."

"The equivalent of dirty."

"I'll sit on your bed if you're not careful."

"Don't you dare."

"I do."

I plop down unceremoniously onto his bed. Malfoy gasps and moves as far over as he can.

"Oh, it's actually quite comfy," I say dramatically. "I think I'll spread out some more."

"Granger, stop. Stop right now or I'll scream."

"No you won't. You wouldn't want to be seen with me." I smirk. "I told you I wasn't unintelligent, Malfoy."

He groans as I lie down and spread my arms and legs out. "Mmmmm," I sigh contentedly. "Quite the comfortable bed, is it not?"

"Not anymore," Malfoy mutters.

I laugh, sit up and scoot to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm only messing with you, Malfoy."

"We're not friends, Granger. It's not funny." Malfoy sniffs.

I peer at him. "Would it be so bad?"

"What?" He has tears in his eyes again.

"To be my friend? Would it really be so terrible? Am I that disgusting to you?" He doesn't answer. "I mean, if you weren't so stiff and concerned about blood status, I think it would work."

"You're hilarious, Granger," Malfoy drawls.

"I am, aren't I?"

Malfoy grunts, but then he is silent. I sigh and stand up. "Nonetheless, Malfoy, I really do hope you're alright."

"I'm not," Malfoy says. "But I will be."

"That's all I needed to hear. I'll get out of your hair now."

As I walk by Malfoy to leave, I feel a hand on my arm. I look down, shocked, and when I look to Malfoy, he appears just as shocked as I am. "I - I don't - We -" he stutters.

I peel his hand off my arm. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

I turn the doorknob just as I hear Malfoy say, "Don't go," in a voice smaller than any I have ever heard.

I whirl around. I feel as though I am a rag doll, spinning and flipping to the command of whoever is holding me. Right now, Malfoy has full control.

"I don't want to be alone right now."

I reward him a small smile. He really is brave. "I have to go, Malfoy. I need sleep, too."

He hesitates. "Sleep here."

"There's no place."

"You've already contaminated my bed."

I gasp. "You're not joking."

Malfoy shakes his head.

"I can't even get changed?"

"You know what, this was a stupid idea. Forget it." Malfoy sighs and lays back on the pillow he had earlier been trying to kill himself with.

I go and change into my pajamas. As I am getting into bed, I hear Malfoy's quiet sobs reverberating through the common room. I try to ignore it. As I am lying there in bed, the blankets tucked around my chin, I think of Malfoy (against my own wishes) and of everyone he must have lost. He knew many of the Death Eaters killed in the war. He knew Voldemort himself. Many of the students in Slytherin had parents on Voldemort's side. Many of the Slytherins were Death Eaters themselves. I realize for the first time just how many friends were killed and he will never get to see again. I remember how he lost Crabbe that day in the Room of Requirement and how it was the first time I had really seen Draco Malfoy show an emotion other than hate or disgust.

Then, definitely not for the first time, I think of everyone I lost. How when I believed Harry was dead for those few minutes, I could feel the ache in my soul, how, even though Ron was there beside me, I knew that no one could ever make the pain go away. Hagrid's heartbroken face appears in my mind, the look of defeat he held in his posture when he carried Harry's still body back for all to see. I imagine how he must have felt, holding the dead body of one of his best friends, not feeling breaths or heartbeats or any sign of life. The looks of terror on the faces of the Weasleys when Fred was hit pop into my mind. How George fell to his knees and cried out for his twin who would never hear him. His twin who had died smiling. His twin who had died protecting his family and forgiving his brother. His twin who was the best part of George's life and the best part of a lot of peoples' lives. I try not to remember the blank faces of my parents when I removed their memories. I try not to remember when Malfoy had stepped forward and grudgingly accepted Voldemort's stance.

I try not to, but I do.

"Damn him," I say.

I get out of bed and go to his room. I walk in without knocking and he whispers, "Granger?"

"It's me," I sigh. "I found I didn't want to be alone tonight either."

I hear the rustle of sheets and I walk to stand beside the bed. "This is insane," I muse.

"Indeed."

I slip into the bed and pull the blankets around myself. "No funny business."

"With you? Not in one million years."

I turn so my back is to Malfoy. As I drift off to sleep, I think about how Malfoy could have easily made another chair for me to sleep on. Then I think about how I'm glad he didn't.

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 **Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2: Draco comforts Hermione

**A/N: This is the 2nd - and final - chapter of this story. In this one, Draco comforts Hermione.**

 **Disclaimer: No I have not acquired ownership of Harry Potter since the last time. I promise I will pick up the pace.**

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 _Slam_

The door to the Head Boy and Girl quarters sends a shudder through the entire dormitory. Draco does not even bother to look up from writing his essay until he hears the sobs. He allows his eyes to drift up from the parchment as Granger storms in the room. "Past your curfew, isn't it, Granger?"

He has long since stopped calling her mudblood. He had always known she could do it, but when Granger had become Head Girl alongside his position as Head Boy, he accepted the fact that her status didn't change that. She was still inferior to him, though. She always would be.

"Shut up, Malfoy," she growls. She tears her robe off and throws it at him.

"Geez, Granger, what's got your knickers in a bunch?" he drawls. He may be past calling her the terrible names, but he could still have a bit of fun, now, couldn't he? "Weasel finally break up with you? I knew it wouldn't last."

"No, Malfoy. If you really _need_ to know, I broke up with him." She swipes her hands across her face, flicking away her tears. "I need to shower."

She jogs upstairs, already beginning to shed her clothing. Draco throws his arms over his face, shielding his eyes. "Merlin, Granger, spare me!"

"Sod off!" she yells. Her voice sounds nasally. Heavy.

Draco shakes his head and returns to his essay. He very easily removes Granger from his mind. That is, until he hears the scream. It pierces the air, sending shivers down Draco's spine. He freezes up, thinking of Voldemort.

 _He's gone, Draco,_ he assures himself. _He can't hurt anyone anymore._

Another scream cuts through the air, stealing all of the oxygen from Draco's lungs. "Granger?" he yells.

When he receives no answer, Draco jumps up from the chair he was sitting in and darts up the stairs. "Granger!" He keeps screaming for her. The shower is still running, so he knows she is in there. Frantic, he knocks on the door. "Granger?"

No answer. Only stifled whimpers and the running of the shower water.

Draco groans. He can't believe what he is about to do. "I'm coming in."

"No!" she finally answers. "No, you can't come in."

"I don't bloody care, Granger. Cover up." Draco shudders at the thought of seeing Granger bare in any way. Despite this, he barges into the bathroom. It's a good thing Granger is still in the shower, but she is crying, and Draco knows he has to do something.

 _Why do I even care?_ he thinks. _It's not about me right now._

"What the hell _was_ that, Granger?" he questions.

At first, he gets no reply, but then he hears her whimper, "I can't get it off."

Suspicious of where the situation is headed, Draco asks, "Get _what_ off, exactly, Granger?"

"I can't get it off!" She sounds so desperate. "I can't get it off, Malfoy! I can't get it off!"

She continues shouting the same thing, getting quieter gradually. Eventually, she stops saying anything at all and Draco hears a loud thump. Hesitantly, he asks, "Granger?"

He only hears her mumble, "I can't get it off."

Draco knows she is still sobbing; he can hear her sniffs and heaves. He sighs but knows what he has to do. "Granger, I'm going to hand you a towel and you need to cover yourself. I don't need to be seeing anything pertaining to your body."

Draco grabs the towel off the counter and throws it over the curtain. He hears Granger sniff. He knows she is soaking wet and that so is the towel, because no, she has not yet turned the showerhead off, but when he has given her enough time, Draco peels back the curtain to find Granger lying on the shower floor, curled up in a ball, the towel wrapped around her.

"Hang on to it," Draco sighs. He reaches in to offer Hermione a hand, but she doesn't take it, just continues shuddering, so he resorts to picking her up, getting himself wet also. For the moment, all foolish prejudices are set aside. At first, she protests, but then she goes limp in his arms. He sets her down on the toilet and takes in her appearance. Her tear-stained face is still running with tears, her hair matted around her face. Her arms look as though they have been scrubbed raw. She is still rubbing at her arms and face, the towel barely holding on. Her pale legs stick out from underneath the plain brown towel, also red. Draco turns around to switch the shower off and then kneels in front of Hermione, keeping his eyes glued to her face.

"Granger, you have to tell me what's wrong so I can help you."

She shakes her head. "I can't get it off. . . ."

"Get what off?"

She explodes. "His touch! I can't get his bloody touch off of me!"

"Who? Weasel?"

She screws her face up and shouts at him. "Yes, Malfoy!"

"What did he do to you, Granger? I thought you broke up."

"I broke up with him because . . ." She shivers. "He . . ."

Draco's voice softens, surprising him and Granger. "What did he do, Hermione?"

Her breath hitches at the sound of her first name coming from Draco's mouth. She lets out another sob. "I – I didn't want him to touch me. . . ."

Realization dawns on Draco. His eyes darken as he thinks about the Weasel touching her like that – touching _anyone_ like that. Draco moves to stand up, to go attack the man, but Granger's sobs stop him. He sits down again. Granger is still scrubbing herself, and Draco grabs her hands to stop her from exposing her bone.

She gasps. Draco moves her hands down to her sides. "You're going to peel them off."

"That's the point!" Granger yells as though her intentions were obvious. "I don't want to feel it anymore!"

"I know, I know, okay? Tell you what, I can wait outside, and you can get dressed, and we'll make sure we get it off of you, alright?"

"Why are you . . . being so nice . . . to me?" she hiccups. She suddenly seems very self-conscious and tightens her grip on the towel. She crosses her arms over her chest, looking at the floor as if it is the most fascinating thing she has ever laid eyes on.

"Because . . ." He doesn't really know. He has never seen her so fragile, so breakable before. She has always been Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, part of the Golden Trio, war hero. She has never been this girl in front of him now. And unbelievably, the fact that she is open enough to him that she is willing to be this person in front of him allows him to be this way also. "It doesn't matter. Let's just get you clean."

Draco leaves without waiting for an answer, just gives her time to dress herself. He shuts the door behind him and leans against the wall.

"What the hell am I doing?" he asks aloud. He hears the shuffling in the bathroom, the opening and closing of drawers, and the continued whines of the Head Girl. After a few minutes, Draco hears the door knob rattle. The door swings open with a creak and out steps Granger. She is dressed in a loose yellow shirt and blue drawstring shorts. She has left her hair down around her face. It has already begun to go curly again. Draco realizes then just how not-exactly-bushy it is. Hermione looks down bashfully.

"All good?" Draco asks carefully. He tries his best to steady his voice, but he can hear the waver of it. He just hopes Granger doesn't. He reaches out – he doesn't know what for. To touch her? To cross his arms? Either way, he lowers them and glues them to his sides.

"I . . ." she sniffs. Granger nods and swallows hard. She looks up at him, her eyes swimming with tears, but there is also a certain resolve in them. "Yeah."

Draco gives her a pathetic smile, but she returns it anyway. This time when Draco reaches for Granger, he doesn't think. He just grabs her hand, ignoring the surprised gasp that escapes her. He drags her to her room, opening the door for her.

"Mal – Malfoy," she stutters. "I'm – I'm ok."

"You're not," Draco assures her. He keeps pulling her into her room. He tries not to pay attention to the pit growing in his chest. He can feel Granger's anxious fidgeting through his arms. Suddenly her free hand grasps his arm also, halting his movement. She turns him to look at her. She appears so shy when she glances up at him.

"Thank you," she murmurs. She gulps and wipes her face with the back of her hand.

"It's nothing, Granger," Draco says. "Honestly, I just didn't want to listen to your blubbering any longer."

"Stop, Draco," she interrupts. Draco sucks in a breath at the sound of his name. It is the first time she has ever heard it come out of her mouth not followed by his last name. Now he knows how Granger felt when he called her Hermione earlier. "I'm not buying it. Tonight was . . . it was really hard, and I'm really grateful that you were here."

Not knowing how to respond, Draco nods.

"I don't know what I would have done, Draco, without you here."

Hermione moves her hand up to his shoulder, pulling him closer. Draco freezes. He has never been this close to anyone but his parents. Especially not a Muggle born like Granger. Just when Draco regains his mode of movement, Granger pulls him into her arms. Draco loses all his senses again. He goes numb at Granger's touch, goes more limp in her arms than she had earlier in his. He feels her chin rest on his shoulder, inhales her vanilla scent, accepts the tears that fall onto his shirt. He awkwardly reaches his hands up from his sides and rubs her back.

"He's not here now, Granger." Draco will take care of _that_ later. When Granger is asleep. If she can manage to fall asleep.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that, Draco," she says. "I do have a first name."

"Right." He nods. " _Hermione_."

"Thank you." Draco hears the crack in her voice as she thanks him. " _Draco_."

She looks up at him again. He brings a hand up to cup her face and wipes the tears off of her cheeks. He leaves his thumb resting next to her eye, astonished with how soft her skin is. Her eyelids flutter closed as she takes a deep breath, her eyelashes tickling the tip of Draco's finger. She looks so small then, so breakable.

Draco leans forward just enough that he can press his lips to the crown of Grang - Hermione's head. He hears her sigh as he kisses her smooth skin and brushes a wisp of hair out of her face. He allows his lips to linger on her face for a few moments before retreating.

"You know," he hears Hermione say, "you're not so bad, Draco."

He chuckles. "I guess you're alright, too, Hermione."

 _I guess you're alright, too._

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 **I live and breathe for reviews.**


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